Grace
I looked away from him.
I had to.
His gaze was too much. My chest tightened with everything flooding through me all at once, lust, pleasure, confusion, but above it all was one emotion I couldn’t ignore.
Shame.
I hated myself. Hated the way I allowed this to happen again.
I had no idea why I kept walking back into these situations, why I kept letting myself get tangled up with this man. Maybe some sick part of me wanted it. Even now, with the warmth of his touch still lingering on my skin, all I wanted was to rewind time, and let him go down on me all over again.
I refused to look at him. I didn’t want to see that expression, the same one from that night. The way he looked at me like I was nothing more than a woman trying to trade her body for money.
That night, I didn't have a choice. I was drunk, desperate, and broken.
But now? What was my excuse? Lust?
What we just did, if anyone found out, it would look exactly like what he once accused me of. No, it would look even worse.
